"Old-School Musicians in Merida"
I was impressed by the almost Christ-like sacrifice represented by the career of Felipe Carrillo Puerto, the only governor of the state of Merida to learn, and speak, the Mayan language. He who, while still a young man, had been imprisoned for encouraging the native Mayans to break down fences erected by rapacious land-owners; fences that prevented the peasants from accessing their ancestral lands. He who, in 1922 at the age of 47, was elected overwhelmingly as governor of the state.
Carrillo Puerto proclaimed the "first socialist government in the Americas". During his 20 months as governor he initiated land reform, confiscating large estates and returning land to the native Maya. He promoted new farming techniques, granted women political rights, began family planning programs, fought against alcoholism, and fought for the conservation and restoration of pre-Columbian Mayan archaeological sites. In the first year of his administration, 417 public schools were opened; and he founded the Universidad Nacional del Sureste.
In early 1924 he, with 3 of his brothers and eight of his friends, was lined up and shot by political enemies.
My friend was trying to remember a love song said to have been written for Carillio Puerte when he fell in love with a young woman visitor from the United States. In 1922, the 33-year-old American journalist Alma Reed (whose marriage to Reed had been annulled) was invited to Mexico by President Álvaro Obregón as an honoured guest. In February 1923, her party was welcomed to Yucatan by the strikingly handsome governor; described in her autobiography as "a man of exceptional magnetism and rare physical beauty. He was attired in a crisp white linen suit and, in his over six-foot height, towered head and shoulders above the assistants and petitioners who crowded around him". To a colleague who asked how she found him, she replied unhesitatingly «He's my idea of a Greek God!» The attraction seems to have been mutual. At the end of the year, Reed returned to the States to prepare for marriage, never to see Carrillo Puerto again.
The song addresses her as "La Peregrina” ('The Pilgrim'), by which name she is now immortalised. Composed, in the 4 verse Trova style, by Ricardo Palmerín (a Yucateco composer), to words by Luis Rosado Vega (a Yucateco poet); though not a great song, it was known by all and sung by many, even to this day.
On Friday, at 7pm, we returned to the little plaza where, the previous night, we had heard the singing and dancing of La Serenata. No audience now, but three microphones on the stage; and one elderly guitarist in a severe black suit, like an undertaker's, who confessed to knowing the 100-year-old song. He said if we returned at 8pm he and his colleagues would open their ‘spot’ with “La Peregrina”.
When we returned at 8, it turned out the owner of the bar had changed his mind and was going to ask a younger group to play. We were disappointed, as of course were the musicians. After a word with his colleagues, who had appeared from nowhere, they agreed to play the song, just for us. They lined up; leader in the middle, lead-guitarist on our right, he with the big fat acoustic bass guitar on our left. And they sang the song; just for us. My friend gave the leader 200 pesos, though that hardly reflected our joy at hearing the song, acoustically, from three guitars and three singers who, between them would be carrying at least two hundred years of memories and tradition.
There was a suggestion that the Gringo journalist was a US spy. But I think it would be wrong to doubt the honesty and good faith of Alma Reed; she spent many subsequent years in Mexico, and was a great supporter of the politically motivated muralist painter, Orozco.
After hearing ‘our love song’ sung so beautifully and authentically, just for us, we made our short way back, past the patient horses and their gaily decorated fiacres, to our hotel. Long after midnight I could still hear the repetitive thumping and out-of-tune wailing from the youngsters and their loudspeakers in our little plaza.
Perhaps we should call in on the restaurant tomorrow and tell the owner how delighted we were to hear the ‘old school’ musicians singing a true Yucateca song without amplification in the square on Friday night.
PEREGRINA
(Ricardo Palmerín/Luis Rosado Vega)
Peregrina de ojos claros y divinos
y mejillas encendidas de arrebol,
mujercita de los labios purpurinos
y radiante cabellera como el sol.
Peregrina que dejaste tus lugares,
los abetos y la nieve y la nieve virginal
y veniste a refugiarte en mis palmares
bajo el cielo de mi tierra, de mi tierra tropical.
Las canoras avecillas de mis prados,
por cantarte dan sus trinos si te ven
y las flores de nectarios perfumados,
te acarician en los labios, en los labios y en la sien.
Cuando dejes mis palmeras y mi tierra,
Peregrina del semblante encantador:
No te olvides, no te olvides de mi tierra,
no te olvides, no te olvides de mi amor.
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